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Literature Text
anna's corpse is in the rigid crawspace
of the pale white house on ash tree lane,
where cattail fronds grow near ponds
and tree roots touch the sky.
anna walked down a virginian road
a virgin looking for a way out of living,
a way to just forget herself in luminous pools of sex
and dripping sweat and sweet flesh, a sickly
heaven-on-earth, but she made wrong turns
and went down roads best kept rotten in the
cryptic inferno image of hell; two wrong
turns and she landed in the shifty markings
of ash-bodies on trees, faces planted, feeding
the root of terror. this love is paved with
ashes churned from blood & lust, lust for blood,
just lust and mistakes giving way to the
clean slate of unopened flesh, unopened organs.
hollowed out cavities inside her she
desperately needed to fill.
a nameless shape appeared before her,
sweet-scented and smooth-- it touched her
all up and down the close links of her
spine, the knitted gem of her tongue. it
made her feel desired and loved
and lusted and needed and breathed and lived.
but poor anna, soon the touches stung like
knives and she couldn't scream, her tongue
wrapped around the humanly shape of its
teeth, that dark shadowy mass of what felt
like bones & flesh-- the mass showed her
lustily out of consciousness and soon after,
out of being. out of sight. out of heaven,
a heaven that was never really heaven. to nothing.
anna sleeps in the billowy, wretched
dark of a house, a house built on the
bloody ashes of trees soon to be
burned again.
anna lives and dies and is forever lost
at the sick hand of an upturned root,
a devil speaking in tongues,
burning her to nothing on ash tree lane.
of the pale white house on ash tree lane,
where cattail fronds grow near ponds
and tree roots touch the sky.
anna walked down a virginian road
a virgin looking for a way out of living,
a way to just forget herself in luminous pools of sex
and dripping sweat and sweet flesh, a sickly
heaven-on-earth, but she made wrong turns
and went down roads best kept rotten in the
cryptic inferno image of hell; two wrong
turns and she landed in the shifty markings
of ash-bodies on trees, faces planted, feeding
the root of terror. this love is paved with
ashes churned from blood & lust, lust for blood,
just lust and mistakes giving way to the
clean slate of unopened flesh, unopened organs.
hollowed out cavities inside her she
desperately needed to fill.
a nameless shape appeared before her,
sweet-scented and smooth-- it touched her
all up and down the close links of her
spine, the knitted gem of her tongue. it
made her feel desired and loved
and lusted and needed and breathed and lived.
but poor anna, soon the touches stung like
knives and she couldn't scream, her tongue
wrapped around the humanly shape of its
teeth, that dark shadowy mass of what felt
like bones & flesh-- the mass showed her
lustily out of consciousness and soon after,
out of being. out of sight. out of heaven,
a heaven that was never really heaven. to nothing.
anna sleeps in the billowy, wretched
dark of a house, a house built on the
bloody ashes of trees soon to be
burned again.
anna lives and dies and is forever lost
at the sick hand of an upturned root,
a devil speaking in tongues,
burning her to nothing on ash tree lane.
Literature
Lightbulb
How many times do you have to
screw with my head
around like
an electric socket that goes to a lightbulb until it goes dead
from so much exhaustion of always having to"stay on"
for a faulty parallel circuit that just gives in
to the slightest trigger that touches its brim
copper wires wrapped around power that is trying to glow
Why are you hiding me in a restrictive shallow sheath skin
when I'm trying to grow
all I want is to feel complete in a formation
that travels like traffic, paving a way
for my electrons to scurry like the information I have to retain
that shock me in the brain
that mold ideas and thoughts that
awfully hurt me
Literature
the ghost
I don't know what I'm waiting for,
because I am a ghost and yet
I sit on my hands and wonder
where you've been -
I walk the forest in circles,
the methodical crunch
of leaves beneath my feet
and I remember
that you made me feel small,
and alone. here I am, facing
this brilliant hue that is me and myself
and I am the ghost but somehow
you are haunting me.
Literature
Feel it
I have given every sacrifice bled, lost freedom, became a monster just to protect you
Used every skill in human condition which we both know I qualify as an expert. Staying in captivity top three fears of life ( number 1. Become a sandwich number 2. Spiders and number 3. Held captive for any reason if escape was possible!
I laid in a drug haze in the prettiest cage with the key in my hand
My mentor saying hold on the cages break all of them even if you lose the key.
One reason for all this
To prove my love for you is existential everlasting not able to lose not even if you accidentally smothered me to death!
So fuck you I won't die just
Suggested Collections
well
you write shitty poetry then die, as they say
you write shitty poetry then die, as they say
© 2012 - 2024 breathingglassstars
Comments15
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i enjoy your metaphors. it's strange to read and know what you're talking about, and read again to distance myself, to see it for what it is as a whole. i wonder if all of life shouldn't be like that--people should hear the words people say and distance themselves to see what it all really looks like.
but then i think about it. would it matter, the quality of your poetry, if i did not know you? it would be a little more flattering, probably, if i were a stranger, telling you it was a glorious poem. but here i am, your best friend. you know me, though. you know i'm terrible at lying, my best method is actually hiding. i touch nothing and shrink away from everyone and hide. that's how i work.
so this is un-hiding, and this is me telling you, my darling best friend, that this is one of the most beautiful things i have ever read. i see you, i see you, i see you, and i'm sorry if that is never what you intended. your words, you craft them in a way that looks like you woke up from a ten year underwater coma, and sleepily dragged the words up with you, a burbling sigh trembling in the air as you pulled them to shore. the beach is nothing but driftwood and stones. you're barefoot and being careful probably doesn't matter, but you are so sweet and gentle and blue. blue the colour of a gem that's been underwater for years. i hope everyone pulls the seaweed and muck from you, the harsh words, and sees the glitter beneath. i hope they read well and dream deep.
i hope no one has to read this whole comment, shit, i'm sorry. you are so lovely to me, more so than i deserve. i can be a really disgusting friend at times. but i love you, all the time. thank you. thank you for writing and sharing this.
but then i think about it. would it matter, the quality of your poetry, if i did not know you? it would be a little more flattering, probably, if i were a stranger, telling you it was a glorious poem. but here i am, your best friend. you know me, though. you know i'm terrible at lying, my best method is actually hiding. i touch nothing and shrink away from everyone and hide. that's how i work.
so this is un-hiding, and this is me telling you, my darling best friend, that this is one of the most beautiful things i have ever read. i see you, i see you, i see you, and i'm sorry if that is never what you intended. your words, you craft them in a way that looks like you woke up from a ten year underwater coma, and sleepily dragged the words up with you, a burbling sigh trembling in the air as you pulled them to shore. the beach is nothing but driftwood and stones. you're barefoot and being careful probably doesn't matter, but you are so sweet and gentle and blue. blue the colour of a gem that's been underwater for years. i hope everyone pulls the seaweed and muck from you, the harsh words, and sees the glitter beneath. i hope they read well and dream deep.
i hope no one has to read this whole comment, shit, i'm sorry. you are so lovely to me, more so than i deserve. i can be a really disgusting friend at times. but i love you, all the time. thank you. thank you for writing and sharing this.